


Young, Numb and Broken

by sirius_theseriousone



Category: No Fandom
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst with a Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Other, Sad with a Happy Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-14 08:14:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28542363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sirius_theseriousone/pseuds/sirius_theseriousone
Summary: (TRIGGER WARNING: Allusions to/mentions of self-harm, depression, body image)***You don’t think I know you, but I do.I’ve known you since the beginning of time, since before you were even born. People like us, we’ve been around for centuries, hidden in the pockets of shadow against the blinding light, unseen amongst the rest of humanity as it walks the Earth: a race of kings and queens with no place for us ‘peasants’ and beggars’.***Or: a never-ending ritual with a link to breaking free
Kudos: 2
Collections: Works About Healing, siri's miscellaneous works





	Young, Numb and Broken

You don’t think I know you, but I do. 

I’ve known you since the beginning of time, since before you were even born. People like us, we’ve been around for centuries, hidden in the pockets of shadow against the blinding light, unseen amongst the rest of humanity as it walks the Earth: a race of kings and queens with no place for us ‘peasants’ and beggars’. 

I know that for as long as you can remember, you’ve been staring out of that foggy window, not knowing where to look in this dark and dreary view: only that anywhere else is fine… anywhere but behind you. Anywhere but the sight of your unmade bed, anywhere but those clothes still lying haphazardly on the ground that you were supposed to pick up maybe a week ago but you haven’t gotten around to organising yet. Anywhere but back into that mirror that lays bare every blemish on your skin, every mountain and valley of the folds of your body, every shortcoming, every fault, everything that’s wrong with you, every bit of mental torture that screams into the eternal silence of your soul… every way in which you’re hopelessly, irreparably broken. 

And every day as you stare out of that gloomy window, I know that you wonder whether everything you see is actually real, or if it’s just another figment of your imagination, of your brain desperately trying to save you from your dull, stagnant existence. Not that it matters; everything might as well be fiction in your world. I know of that daily neglect that you inflict upon yourself, ignoring the pain because it helps, because it fills all the gaps left in the wake of your turbulent emptiness. It’s that same emptiness that devours you everyday - no pain could possibly rival that. Neither words, nor knives could slice your skin open wider than the thoughts that hurt you most, bleeding you dry, drowning you like a song on repeat with every second. 

You always believe that you’re nothing. 

You always feel hopelessly, irreparably broken. 

I know how that fear tears through your very being when someone catches the tiniest of glances at those perfect, straight lines whittled into your skin from God knows how long ago. Those fears that begin to encircle your consciousness - you don’t know how to answer as your throat begins to close, mouth dry as your thoughts tangle and disappear, because, what if they find out? What will they think - that you’re inhuman, that you’re a monster, that you’re insane? How would they know that this was the only way you felt you could catch a break from that wretched hollowness that plagues you endlessly? They don’t, so you wear the same mask that you’ve worn every day for an innumerable number of years, plaster that same smile with those same dimples and say that it’s nothing, coming up with some new but ordinary story that you hope will pacify them. It’ll never get easier, but it’s better this way. This way, they only see the version of yourself that you’ve constructed, perfectly suiting their fantasies and ideals - not the one that’s slowly clawing and scratching its way to the surface. 

You don’t think I know you, but I do. 

I know you and you know me, but I have long since left the boundaries of consciousness to be able to warn or help you of what may come. I know you even now, as you start up that same, futile ritual, once again staring out of that window for some means of escape. But I hope and pray, more now than ever before, that this process will stop before it starts. 

I hope and pray that you lift everyone like us from the pockets of shadow in which they’re concealed. 

I hope that today, you realise: 

You are not, and never really will be, hopelessly, irreparably broken.

**Author's Note:**

> i only have two things to say:
> 
> 1) i know it's hard sometimes to go on in life because things happen (or what you need to happen doesn't) and while I'm not expecting anyone to read this, or any work in this collection or that i've writen but know that you're not alone in anything you go through. you are loved, you are worthy and you deserve so, so much. maybe life isn't treating you great but there's always a way and things will get better. you can do this
> 
> 2) please excuse the terrible khalid reference in the title, please and thankyou


End file.
